


We Should Find Ourselves a Home That No One Knows About

by Anglophile_Rin



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Apocalypse (Umbrella Academy), Bar Owner Klaus Hargreeves, Bartender Lila Pitts, F/M, Five is Norm, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Modern David "Dave" Katz, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:41:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29578341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anglophile_Rin/pseuds/Anglophile_Rin
Summary: “Well, I suppose you can take the boy out of the south, but not the south out of the boy.” Dave shrugged, lips quirking to match the man’s smirk-turned-smile despite himself.“A southern gentleman, be still my queer little heart.” One hand went dramatically to the man’s chest, the other up against his forehead, palm faced out so Dave could read the writing there: Hello.Dave glanced sidelong again at the bartender, just in time to see her look their way. She didn’t seem concerned in the slightest by the man’s presence in her workspace. Dave immediately relaxed, returning his eyes to the man in front of him.“Dave Katz.” he offered his hand across the counter. ‘Hello’ dropped to take it, long, slender fingers closing around Dave’s palm."Klaus Hargreeves."
Relationships: Klaus Hargreeves/David "Dave" Katz
Comments: 27
Kudos: 39
Collections: EnKlave Fest 2021





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the EnKlave Fest 2021, for the prompt “Dave is trapped in an unhappy marriage. And then he meets Klaus and they start having an affair (and end up falling in love).”
> 
> My first crack at a chaptered fic, let's see how this goes! 
> 
> Title from Nightmares by Brother Sundance
> 
> See endnotes for additional tags for this chapter!

There were many ways in which New York was explicitly different from Dallas.

There was the obvious, of course. Northern versus Southern, red state versus blue state, pickup trucks versus the subway.

But for Dave, the real differences were the little things. In Texas, there was family, and obligations, and expectations. In Texas, someone was always watching, making sure Dave acted right. In Texas, going for a drink meant hitting up the mess with half of his unit after work.

In New York, Dave sat alone at a glossy, deep brown bar, nursing an IPA and people watching as he actively avoided going home.

That sounds awful. But it was just kind of fact, at this point in his life (at any point in his life).

It just hadn’t been as obvious in Texas, where he’d had friends he could kill time with, relatives he could drop by on, and a family store he could help out with. It was even less obvious back when he had a career that could take him halfway across the world at a moment’s notice, but a roadside bomb and one stupid piece of shrapnel had stopped that in its tracks. He rubbed at his chest absentmindedly.

“Five!!” 

Dave started in his seat before finding himself smiling in equal measures confusion and amusement. He’d never actually heard anyone greeted so enthusiastically by the entire population of a room before. (It was like that old show...what was that called, again?) He was actually a little jealous not to be in on the joke. And, surely, it must be some kind of joke - not only had the ‘Five’ been called out like a name, it was a name that appeared to be attached to a particularly surly-looking teenager. 

Dave couldn’t be completely sure, of course, but he was relatively certain the drinking age in New York was the same as it had been in Texas…

The boy made his way to the bar - a bit down from where Dave, himself, was sitting - and stood directly behind a man seated at the corner. The boy stood, silent and glaring, and though the man couldn’t see him, it was obvious he could feel him, and he soon uncomfortably vacated his spot, swiftly replaced on his stool by the boy. 

The teen was joined moments later by a tall man with dark curls and lanky limbs who ruffled the boy's hair, laughing maniacally as he was shoved away, before bouncing back like a good-natured boomerang. Dave checked for the bartender, but she wasn’t paying any attention to the duo, pulling drinks at the other end of the bar. As Dave looked back, the man launched himself over the counter with a sort of awkward fluidity, ducking down and rummaging around once on the other side. 

Now, Dave was generally happy to let events play out as they would - there was no real reason to worry about something before it was even a problem - but the bartender was a skinny little thing and, as far as Dave could tell, working alone. So, Dave stretched himself over the bar, craning his neck to find the man, who was pushing glassware aside and swearing lightly when one fell to the ground with a crash.

“Hey buddy,” Dave called, making sure he kept his voice light and non-threatening. “You good down there?”

The man looked up, wide doe eyes made wider (and greener) by the dark makeup smudged around them. He smirked at Dave, sitting back on his heels and propping an elbow on one knee to rest his chin on his hand. Dave took a moment to be impressed - he was almost positive that he would have already fallen over in such a position.

“Well, I’m just grand. How are you, handsome?” His voice was airy, teasing, and his smirk only grew as Dave frowned slightly at the response.

“Do you know the bartender or something? Just, she’s got her hands kind of full already without a teenager sitting at her bar, and a grown man breaking her glasses.”

“Oh my God, you precious angel.” The man sprang up, long legs eating up the short distance between where he had been rummaging and where Dave was still leaned over. Dave backed up so they weren’t face-to-chest (a frankly indecent amount of bare chest, in fact. The man’s shirt was more v-neck than actual material). The man rested his elbow on the bartop Dave had just vacated, returning his chin to his hand. “And here I was sure chivalry was dead.”

Okay, Dave was pretty sure this guy must know the bartender. Either that or he was high, or drunk, or maybe just ballsy. Maybe this was even normal in New York (not Texas, not a chance).

“Well, I suppose you can take the boy out of the south, but not the south out of the boy.” Dave shrugged, lips quirking to match the man’s smirk-turned-smile despite himself.

“A _southern_ gentleman, be still my queer little heart.” One hand went dramatically to the man’s chest, the other up against his forehead, palm faced out so Dave could read the writing there: Hello.

Dave glanced sidelong again at the bartender, just in time to see her look their way. She didn’t seem concerned in the slightest by the man’s presence in her workspace. Dave immediately relaxed, returning his eyes to the man in front of him. 

“Dave Katz.” he offered his hand across the counter. ‘Hello’ dropped to take it, long, slender fingers closing around Dave’s palm.

“Klaus Hargreeves. The ‘kid’ is my ‘little’ brother.” Klaus inexplicably threw air quotes around the words ‘kid’ and ‘little.’ “He’s fine, we keep the place stocked in dark roast for him.”

Honestly, the kid looked a little young for even a coffee habit, but Dave supposed it was better than alcohol. 

“Oh! Right, coffee cups.” Then Klaus was gone, crouched back in the corner and rummaging through the glassware again. This time he emerged triumphantly holding a coffee mug over his head, spinning on his heel to place it inside a Keurig-style machine, pressing a few buttons, and propping his hip against the counter. He looked back over towards Dave, who realized he was staring and quickly looked away. He could feel a flush creeping up into his cheeks. He stared diligently at his pint glass, instead, running his fingers through the condensation. He heard the coffee machine beep and more shuffling before a bowl of peanuts slid into his field of vision.

"Peanut?" Klaus offered, shaking the bowl a little when Dave looked back up at him. "They're honey roasted. And it's a new bowl - no mystery bar hands."

Dave pulled out a few, setting them down on the napkin that was serving as his coaster. Klaus seemed satisfied with this and dropped a handful into his own mouth, continuing to speak around them.

“I never really understood why they always have free peanuts at bars, you know? Seems like, a little random? Why not like, hard candies or something, right? Everyone likes hard candy. Well, maybe not everyone. I like them. Werthers, Werthers are where it’s at.” Dave nodded gamely, transfixed by the humour dancing in Klaus' eyes. "But hey," he continued, "I’ve never exactly had what you could call ‘normal experiences’ so I figured, sure, I’ll get peanuts. But get this, I got honey roasted because they’re sweet, right? So best of both worlds. Or, hey, do they make caramel-covered peanuts? Would that even be good?” Klaus physically waved the thought away, 'Good Bye' flashing past. “Anyway, my brother came by - not Five, a different brother - and told me I’m an idiot - like, what else is new- because _apparently,_ the peanuts are there because they’re _salty_ and they make people want to drink more.” Klaus shrugged, throwing his arms out wide before falling forward onto them, bracing himself on his side of the bartop. “As an alcoholic, I can assure you that _salt_ has never been a deciding factor in my drink consumption, but again, no normal experiences.” He narrowed his eyes a bit, glancing off to the left. “Oh, shit, I’m not trying to trick you into buying more drinks. Like I said, honey roasted. You’re safe.”

Realization dawned on Dave, far later than it probably should have. "You work here."

"Oh, right, yeah. I actually own the place. Hey! Good looking out, my guy. I should hire you as security. Except Lila's my only employee and she'd probably stab me if I implied she couldn't protect herself. And me, for that matter." Klaus giggled, high and airy. 

"Well, I like your place, then, Klaus." Dave smiled back. But then a thought occurred to him. "Sorry, this might be really rude, but didn’t you say you were an alcoholic? And... you own a bar?”

“Yup.” Klaus answered brightly, popping the ‘p’. “If you want to get really technical, I’m _also_ an addict, but they don’t really have any heroin stores in the area, so I went with the bar for the irony factor.”

“Wasn’t there a sitcom like that? In the 80s or something?” Dave was searching his memory, sure he’d heard of an alcoholic owning a bar before. It might even have been the same one with the name thing...

“Yes! Cheers!” Klaus clapped his hands with a little bounce, obviously delighted that Dave had caught onto his joke. “Hence-”

“The name ‘Prost’.” Dave laughed. “Okay, yeah, that’s cute.”

“ _And_ he speaks German?” Klaus’ eyebrows raised, and he very blatantly ran his eyes down Dave and then back up. “ _Stop_ , Dave, I’m going to fall in love with you.”

And there was that blush again. Dave cleared his throat, waving a hand dismissively and nearly toppling his glass over. “Oh, I spent some time in Germany. It’s kind of one of the first words you learn.”

“That is the truest thing I’ve ever heard.” Klaus nodded seriously before glancing to his left a moment, eyebrows moving like he was trying to have a silent conversation with someone. “Oops, sorry Dave, a little birdy just reminded me that I dropped by for a reason. Enjoy your drink, though.” Klaus winked - badly, more of a staggered blink, really- before spinning to the side, leaning over Lila’s shoulder and whispering something to her then disappearing into the back. When Dave flagged her down to pay, she rolled her eyes telling him that ‘the idiot has you covered, feel free to tip, though.’ before giving her attention to another customer. Dave left what his drinks would have cost on the bar and made his way out. He figured probably shouldn’t put off going home any longer.

***

“Get off my _dick_ , Ben, he was cute, I was flirting, it’s a time-honoured bartender tradition!” Ben was sitting on the desk, judgemental, while Klaus was left to work around him, sifting through the chaos of papers to try and find the order sheet he needed. “Oh my God, why don’t I make Lila do all this stuff? This part’s boring.” He was whining, yes, but in his defence, it was truly, _truly_ boring.

“Do you really think a _relationship_ is a good idea right now, Klaus?” Ben, relentless. “You’re barely sober, and running this place into the ground with Dad’s money. Not to mention all the new things that keep popping up with your powers.” He knocked twice on the desk for emphasis, his knuckles rapping sharply against the wood rather than phasing through.

“Oh, you poor, dead virgin. Talking to a guy for five minutes doesn’t equal getting into a relationship with him. Move, I think you’re sitting on it.”

“It does for you.” Ben argued, shifting aside so Klaus could scan the papers he’d been sitting on.

It wasn’t a _horrible_ point. Like everything else in his life, Klaus took relationships in fixes, in hits, in bumps. You meet someone, you immediately fall desperately in love with them, you kiss, you fuck, and in a few days the high wears off and you go out to find another. A five-minute conversation would be _more_ than enough time for Klaus to begin (and sometimes end) a relationship, but he wasn’t about to admit that to Jiminy Casper over there.

“I am a new, improved Klaus Hargreeves, Benjamin. I can just say no to drugs, and I can casually flirt. People change. Aha! Shit, I did have them mixed up…” Klaus found the document he was looking for, immediately frowning at it. Maybe he could talk Five into doing his homework (paperwork) for him, he was into nerdy shit. And with no imminent danger bearing down on them, the kid needed a new hobby. Klaus tossed the paper aside into the ‘to be filed later’ pile (read: the entire surface of his desk) and chewed a nail, mentally going over who he was going to have to sweet-talk into fixing this.

“I just think if you’re going to sleep with the customers, you should at least be smart about it. Or did you not notice the wedding ring?" Ben was raising an eyebrow as smugly as one _could_ raise an eyebrow when Klaus looked at him. Klaus stuck his tongue out at his brother in return. 

"Oh no, not a wedding ring! However will I live with myself if I sleep with a married man?" Klaus held his hands up on either side of his face and pitched his voice up, milking every dramatic drop he could from his own words.

"It's different if they're _paying_ you for the sex.”

" _Is it_ , though? Listen, do you wanna call this vendor for me? I think it's the homophobic one and I don't feel like pitching my voice straight right now." 

Ben stared blankly at his brother a moment before rolling his eyes, holding his hand out for the phone even as Klaus fed power into him, turning him blue and visible - and more importantly, audible - to the living.

He spent seventeen years only able to talk to his junkie-ass, idiot brother. Sue him if he enjoyed getting to branch out a little these days.

***

"You're home late." Dave winced as he heard his wife's voice float in from the kitchen. He was hoping she'd already gone to sleep.

"Yeah, sorry. A couple of guys from work wanted to grab a drink." Dave stepped out of his shoes, hanging his coat up in the front closet. He scrubbed his face with his hands, letting himself pull in a few, deep inhales before walking towards the back of the house and the kitchen where his wife was likely sitting at the table. Reading, maybe, or playing on her phone with a drink and a cigarette (she stopped sneaking outside to smoke them once they moved to New York). 

"Hey." Dave greeted as she came into sight. She _was_ on her phone, playing some spin-off of candy crush. No cigarette, but the air smelled like stale smoke, and she did have a half-empty glass of wine by her elbow. "He go down okay?" 

Dave opened the fridge, staring into it disinterestedly. There was a plate of tonight's dinner, covered in foil and balancing on top of the eggs. Dave ignored it and grabbed one of the cheese strings they kept around for their almost 12-year-old.

"Mmm, he's wearing his headphones, but yeah, he went down pretty quick. Wouldn't let me touch his hair, though. We should look at getting it cut."

Dave opened the cheese, pulling a string off with his teeth. "Did you look at those nighttime ones I sent you a link for? The headband things." He asked, motioning vaguely around his own ears. She rolled her eyes at her phone.

"You know he doesn't like things that go around his head."

"Yeah, but these are headphones, he might be okay with them. His ears get all sore when he falls asleep with the buds in, it can't be good for him."

She glanced up at him before returning her gaze to her phone. "Hmm, yeah, maybe. I'll show him tomorrow, see if he's interested."

Dave nodded, now shredding the top half of his cheese so it hung down like hair. "You staying up?" 

She pushed her phone away as she ran out of lives, sitting back in her chair and facing Dave fully. She shrugged. "I started a show on Netflix last night, might stay up and finish it."

"Oh, yeah. Any good?"

"Not bad. I don't think you'd like it."

Dave nodded. Fair enough. He resisted the urge to scrub a hand across his face again. 

"Okay, well. I think I'm gonna head into bed. Don't stay up too late, yeah? Harlan's been getting up early lately."

"Yes Dave, I know. I'm the one who gets up with him." Sissy reminded him with a raised eyebrow. Dave held his hands up. 

"I know. Sorry. Night." He dropped a kiss to the top of her head before leaving the kitchen by way of the back staircase, going up to their bedroom and stripping for bed while the sound of the television coming on downstairs sounded faintly in the background. 

Dave slid under the covers, plugging his phone in on his nightstand and shifting around until he found a spot he was comfortable in. And then stared into his dark bedroom, unable to sleep, and thinking about green eyes and flowing limbs and a teasing smirk.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus wasn’t there the next time that Dave walked into Prost. That was fine, it wasn’t like he was there just to see Klaus. Or to see Klaus at all. He just liked the bar. And it was close to work, and not super far from home, so it was even convenient.
> 
> And even if he was a little disappointed not to see the strange man he’d met (and couldn’t stop thinking about) that was just because he needed friends. Klaus seemed like he’d be a good friend.

Klaus wasn’t there the next time that Dave walked into Prost. That was fine, it wasn’t like he was there _just_ to see Klaus. Or to see Klaus at all. He just liked the bar. And it was close to work, and not super far from home, so it was even convenient.

And even if he was a little disappointed not to see the strange man he’d met (and couldn’t stop thinking about) that was just because he needed friends. Klaus seemed like he’d be a good friend.

(Klaus seemed like he’d be good at a lot of things.)

Dave sat at the bar, not in any particular hurry and happy to wait for Lila to wander over.

“Klaus isn’t here.” Lila leaned on the bar in front of him, leveling him with a Look that Dave could only describe as ‘challenging.’ Dave fought his own bloodstream, willing his face not to flush bright red at the implication.

“That’s okay, I just stopped by for a drink. If that’s...okay?” Suddenly he wasn’t sure. Maybe Klaus had found him weird, maybe he’d stared too long. Maybe he said not to let Dave in anymore, worried that he was some kind of weird stalker.

Lila shrugged. “Well, it is a bar, mate. I’m not sure why it wouldn’t be okay.” Now she was smirking and, cool, Dave was being made fun of. And losing the battle with his blood.

“Just, whatever’s on tap. Please.” 

Lila nodded, smacking the bar in front of her lightly before grabbing a glass and going through the motions of pulling a pint. As she did, someone slid into the seat next to Dave.

“Oh good, I didn’t scare you away.” Dave started as he recognized the pitch and tease of Klaus’ voice. He thought he covered it fairly well with a small smile, shifting so he could face his new seatmate. 

“Well, I _was_ told you weren’t in today, and yet here you are…” 

Dave wasn’t great at teasing (flirting) and hoped desperately that he didn’t come across as an asshole, but Klaus just laughed - not the high, breathy giggles of the other day, but quiet laugh bordered by delighted eyes and a widely smiling mouth.

“I knew it, I always come on too strong for you southern gentlemen types.” he snapped his fingers, 'aw-shucks', before resting an elbow on the bar and propping himself up on his fist. 

Lila slid Dave’s drink in front of his on a napkin, reaching over to push at Klaus’ shoulder.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be off finding a hobby or something?”

“I have a hobby, Liles! Visiting my favourite employee slash boss slash sister-in-law but not really. Is it my fault that I missed you?” Klaus blinked up at Lila, making his eyes big and vulnerable. She, apparently, remained entirely unaffected. He shifted his gaze to the right, baring his teeth in a hiss before looking back at his employee. “Besides, I was in the area...” At that, Lila exaggeratedly rolled her eyes, though Dave was unsure why. “So I thought I’d stop by and get something to drink. The Coke order come in?”

“Yes.”

Klaus cast his eyes to the right again before looking back at Lila. “Can I...have one?”

Lila scowled, but went to the bar fridge, pulling out a bottle of regular cola and dropping it on the bar in front of Klaus. “If you don’t leave soon, I will. I’m not working if you’re going to just skulk around the place.” She left before Klaus could answer, but he didn’t seem phased.

“Good help is so hard to come by.” Now he was talking to Dave again, smiling lazily over the mouth of the Coke bottle. 

“Kids these days.” Dave agreed. “I’m not, by the way.”

“A kid?” 

“Southern.” he clarified. 

“David, you _misled_ me? Or wait, did I make up the Southern thing?” Klaus was frowning a bit now, his eyebrows scrunched together as he tried to remember.

“No, I mean, I moved to Texas when I was a teenager, but I was born and raised in the midwest. So, technically, not actually Southern.”

“Ooo, All-American, even better.” Klaus grinned and Dave couldn’t help but grin back. “Meanwhile, I’ll probably die here, in the same place I’ve lived my whole life.” Klaus sighed at that, dramatic and wistful. 

“Oh yeah? Never been anywhere else? What about the German thing?”

Klaus waved a hand dismissively, ‘Good Bye.’ “Oh, I’ve _been_ basically everywhere, but somehow I just always end up back here. And I was born in Germany.”

“Well, that’s pretty cool. Your parents immigrated here?”

“Naw, just an international purchase. Hey, so Lila really will take off if I’m here much longer. You wanna grab a smoke outside?”

Dave grimaced slightly. “I had to quit. I’ll come out with you, though.” he hurried to add, not wanting Klaus to think he was turning him down (turning him down for what? It wasn’t the middle of the night, this wasn’t some nightclub or anything, a smoke just meant a smoke, right?).

Dave left his mostly full beer on the bar, dropping a ten-dollar bill even when Klaus squawked and insisted he not. He’d rather stay on Lila’s good side, thanks. The more he saw of her, the more he realized that his initial impression of a skinny little girl who needed backup for _anything_ was wildly wrong. Lila could take care of herself, and everyone else. Easily.

Dave let Klaus lead the way, the two meandering down the street a little before Klaus stopped to lean against a wall, pulling out a pack of smokes. 

“My siblings are always on my ass about quitting - well, except Allison, then she wouldn’t have anyone to steal them from.” Klaus told him, speaking around the cigarette he had popped between his lips while he dug through the skin-tight pockets of his pants. “But fuck ‘em, it’s just nicotine, right? In the grand scheme of things, I have absolutely put worse things in my body, and if they didn’t kill me I don’t care how much rat poison is in these things, they won’t, either. Why’d _you_ quit?”

It took Dave a second to realize that Klaus had changed gears so rapidly and actually asked him a question. He rubbed away a twinge of phantom pain in his chest.

“Lung issues.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth, either. It was just hard, sometimes, to know whether someone would make a big deal of his time in the army. Whether they’d call him a baby killer, or fawn over him for his ‘service,’ or… well, it was just hard. Not that Klaus seemed the type to do either, but most people didn't. He’d been talked into (strong-armed into) joining up, like most significant things in his life, and he didn’t feel any pride in it - just an increasingly bitter resentment.

Klaus accepted his answer easily enough, finally lighting the end of his cigarette and making sure to turn away from Dave before exhaling the smoke. “That sucks.”

“Yeah, a bit.” Dave forced out a bit of a laugh but it felt awkward. He leaned against the wall next to Klaus, staring out into the street. 

“You hungry?” 

Dave looked over to Klaus, then down at his watch. It wasn’t terribly late - late enough that Harlan was already in bed, so it wasn’t like he was wasting any time he could be spending with his kid. And it’s not like he and Sissy ever went to bed at the same time, anyway.

“I could eat. Anywhere good nearby?”

“It’s New York, Davey. Everything good is nearby.” Klaus said it like a tease, dropping his half-smoked cigarette on the ground. Dave watched tiny red embers burst from the tip before the whole thing petered itself out. “C’mon.”

Dave followed Klaus through crosswalks and turns, the two keeping up a steady conversation going the whole way. Occasionally their hands would brush and Dave's breath would catch in the hollow of his throat. From the corner of his eye, he'd see the corner of Klaus' mouth tic up, before he’d move on to ask Dave some question about his life, or his favourite book, or what he'd been obsessed with as a kid. When Dave happened to mention being Jewish, Klaus abruptly turned, backtracking them a few streets and turning a different way.

“There would have been stuff for you to eat at the other place, but this one’s better.” he told Dave by way of explanation.

They ended up at a small Jewish deli, and Dave laughed delightedly at the familiar food on the menu board. His uncle Brian didn’t keep kosher, and his aunt wasn’t Jewish - neither was Sissy - so it had been years since Dave had had any of the traditional Jewish foods he’d grown up on. He ended up getting a hot knish pastry - filled with smoked meat the deli made themselves along with potatoes and onions - and Klaus ordered a couple of cheese blintzes doused in blueberry sauce. Dave made him laugh by offering more and more ludicrously opaque excuses to have Klaus turn away so that he could steal bites of the dessert. (Klaus always gamely turned away.)

“Okay, moving to New York has officially become worth it.” Dave declared, licking at a spot of blueberry sauce that he had gotten on himself. Klaus watched, eyes lingering on Dave's mouth even when Dave dropped his hand. When he looked back up his face morphed into an expression of affrontation, the change smooth and effortless.

“What, my delightful company and bar aren't good enough? Needed to throw some cheese pancakes into the mix?” Klaus teased, sticking his bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout.

(Dave fought down the sudden and ridiculous urge to lean forward, suck that lip into his own mouth, taste the blueberries on it.)

“No IPA will ever compete with a good kosher pickle.” Dave waved the remains of said pickle spear for emphasis before biting into the end.

“There’s a dirty joke in there, somewhere.” Klaus was smirking. His eyes went unfocused for a moment before he sighed. “I should let you get home, though. You work normal people hours, right?”

Dave looked down at his watch. Yeah, it probably was time to head out. If he got an Uber he probably wouldn’t make it home ridiculously late…

“I don’t really work normal hours, but, yeah, I probably should head home.” he conceded. He bit his lip, glancing over to Klaus. “If we’re headed the same way, you want to share a ride?”

Klaus waved him off. “Naw, that’s okay. I live above the bar, I’ll just take the walk back, it’s not bad.” Ah, and that was why Lila rolled her eyes so hard at Klaus’ excuse of 'being in the neighbourhood'.That made more sense, now. 

Dave was headed in a different direction, anyway. He shoved down the feeling of disappointment, pushing aside vague thoughts and fledgling fantasies involving sitting in the dark backseat of a car with Klaus. 

Klaus did end up waiting with Dave for his Uber to arrive, smoking just down from the deli entrance. At one point he made grabby hands, demanding Dave’s phone and programming his number into it (“But you have to swear not to judge me by my terrible text-grammar. And spelling. And etiquette. I get enough of that from my siblings.”). Once the Uber arrived and Dave was headed home he pulled up the text Klaus had sent himself, letting out the breath of a laugh when he saw Klaus had entered his name as ‘Sexy Bartender.’ Well, he wasn’t wrong.

***

Diego was lying stretched out on Klaus’ sofa when he got home.

“I’m going to start charging you rent.” Klaus greeted him, tossing his keys in the vague direction of the bowl on the kitchen counter and dropping himself heavily onto his brother’s legs. Diego grunted - more in annoyance than actual pain - and tugged one leg free from under Klaus’ bony ass, shoving it at Klaus’s side until he gave up and slid to the floor.

Diego returned to flipping one of his knives idly in the air once his space was re-secured. “I’ll just start charging you a babysitting fee, and we’ll break even.”

“I don’t need a babysitter, asshole. You guys are just nosy.”

Klaus suffered through variations on this conversation several times a week. He knew exactly where it was headed - where had he been, what had he been doing, and with who. Did he drink, did he take anything, did he want to, yada, yada, yada. He was getting pretty sick of no one taking him seriously - of everyone waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

In Diego's eyes, Klaus deciding to open a bar was just a precursor to that shoe falling from the sky. Rather than see the humour in it (Klaus was funny, goddamnit), he saw it as a relapse waiting to happen. Ben and Luther were just as bad. Luther was every bit as likely to show up at his place unannounced and full of questions that meant well but bordered on needing a metal table with cuffs attached and a single bare lightbulb for the ambiance. Ben, well - omnipresent as the asshole was, he knew damn well that Klaus was being good. He just had Opinions on things, especially things revolving around Klaus, and his ability to use his powers, and anything that might stop that.

Thank God for his sisters. Vanya, at least, stayed out of it whenever their brothers got on Klaus’ case, and Allison - beautiful, wonderful Allison- was completely on board with the bar, at least. She had even helped him decorate the place and dropped a few Instagram posts about hanging out there when she was in town.

Really, though, at the end of the day, Klaus doubted he’d be left any more alone even if he had decided to just sit around the academy. Bar or no bar, temptation was almost literally around every corner in this city, and Klaus had never seen much need in denying himself before. 

“Yeah, speaking of nosy, where’ve you been? I thought today was your day off.”

“It is, I was out. Why, how long have you been in my house?” Klaus dropped his head back against the couch cushion, rolling it to mostly face Diego, who was shrugging. 

“I don’t know, a while. You need a TV.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Out where?” Diego was nothing if not persistent. Klaus fought a twinge of annoyance and resentment. He knew his family was concerned about him keeping sober - and fair enough, he hadn’t been for nearly fifteen years (maybe more? Did it count before the pills?). But he was closing in on a year now, and he figured that had to mean something. Some sense of trust or faith or whatever it was families had for each other and their ability to not fuck things up. 

And he knew he was probably doing as well as he was because he _had_ his family (God, it was annoying when rehab counselors were right), but honestly, there was a ‘support network’, and then there was...whatever this was. Stricter than parole, that was for sure (and he wasn’t willing to perform sexual favours to get out of these check-ins, thanks), but he supposed it was better than solitary.

“I was getting food with a friend, Officer.” Klaus scowled and started attacking a hangnail on his thumb. 

“What friend? You don’t have any friends.” 

“Hey, I have lots of friends!” That wasn’t fair, Klaus knew people! He could be very charming when he wanted to be, not like Mr. Stick-Up-His-Ass over there taking up his entire couch.

“You can’t count drug friends. Or hooker friends.” Ben pointed out, helpful as ever. Klaus stuck his tongue out at him, vowing not to let the asshole go corporeal tonight. He wasn’t about to facilitate his brothers ganging up on him.

“I have… some friends.” He amended; Ben was obnoxious, but he wasn’t wrong.

“Well, have I met this _friend_?”

“It’s a new one.” Klaus hissed an inhale through his teeth as the hangnail pulled away from his thumb, a spot of blood welling up and spreading along the edge of his nail. It looked kind of badass next to the black he had it painted, but it stung like a bitch. Not worth the aesthetic, he decided, popping the side of his thumb into his mouth and sucking on it.

“Talking to you is like pulling fucking teeth, you know that?” Diego swung his legs over, barely clearing Klaus’s head as he sat up on the couch, leaving half of it free for Klaus to scramble up onto. His ass was way too bony to be sitting on the bare floor long, that shit hurt.

“Well maybe if you stopped pulling out my teeth we could both have a better time.” Klaus shot back, drawing one leg up off the floor and draping it over the arm of the couch, slouching down until he was comfortable.

“C’mon, Klaus,” Oh, and there was the tonal change - that soft voice Diego used when he was trying to come across sincere or whatever. It was annoying because it always worked. “You know I just worry about you.”

“I know you do.” Klaus was holding his jaw tight - he had to stop doing that, he was beginning to get a persistent ache. He ground his teeth a few times side to side. It didn’t help. “But Diego, come on, the days of worrying about me are behind us. I’m not on the street anymore, I’m not on drugs, not drinking. I make my money totally legally. I even pay taxes! Like, Worry About Klaus hours are done, _bro_. You missed them.”

(And okay, that probably wasn’t totally fair. But Ben was giving him a hard enough time about Dave, and Diego's retroactive guilt over supposedly not being there for Klaus enough when was homeless was a surefire way to get him to drop any subject. He didn’t need Diego getting on his case, too.)

“Tell him about your crush, Klaus. I want to hear what he thinks.” Ben had that pseudo-serious look on his face, the one he put on when he was being a sarcastic little bitch and trying to make Klaus’ life hell. 

“Bah bah bah bah.” Klaus waved his hands in a vague shooing motion in Ben’s general direction. “No one asked you, Casper.”

“Ben’s here? Can I talk to him?” It was cute how even after months of being able to see their spectral brother his siblings still got so excited about it (Klaus could not relate, he just wanted Ben to shut up for once), but not cute enough to let Ben out of his time out.

“Sorry, Di, we were practicing some stuff with my powers earlier. I’m all tapped out for the day, I’m afraid.” Klaus pulled his mouth down into an exaggerated frown, blinking sadly at his brother.

“Liar.”

Klaus ignored him, resisting the urge to flip him off.

“Oh, okay. Hi Ben.” Diego raised his voice a little, glancing around the apartment (even towards the ceiling? Which…?) and waving to the air. Ben didn't respond, choosing to stare Klaus down, instead.

"He says hi."

"And what does Ben think of your new friend?" Diego raised his eyebrows.

"He likes him. Says he seems like a good guy." Sometimes it worried Klaus that he could lie as easily as breathing, but not often. Especially when he wasn't actively hurting anyone.

Except himself, apparently. He forgot that he almost always fed enough power to Ben these days that he could interact with objects - objects like Klaus' shin, and interact like kicking it with his stupid ghost boots. Klaus smothered a punched-out noise of pain with a cough, using the excuse to get off the couch and go to the kitchen for a drink. 

"You want anything?" He called over to Diego as he ran the tap, waiting for it to get cold. With the water running and Ben following him, still aiming kicks at his ankles, Klaus risked muttering, "Fuck off or the next thing I learn is how to banish your ass." under his breath. Ben landed a final kick to the back of Klaus' knee, nearly buckling him over, but backed off, returning to the couch to perch on the back of it.

Klaus didn't listen to what Diego replied, so he brought two glasses of water back to the living room, handing one off before gulping down his own. 

"You know I'll just check with Ben next time I see him, right?" Now Diego was smirking like he’d caught Klaus out in a lie and was gloating about it. God, Klaus had been on the receiving end of that smirk his entire life.

Klaus gasped, loud and dramatic, pressing a hand to his own chest, fingers splayed out. "Diego, you wound me. Why would I misrepresent our dearly departed brother? That would be cruel. Irresponsible. A grave misuse of the powers I've been so blessed with. And yet, you accuse me of this? In my own _home_?"

"I'm sorry, buddy. I've just, you know. Met you." If anything the smirk was bigger now. Ugh, asshole.

“Okay, get out of my house.” Klaus dropped both his hand and his feigned shock, walking past the couch towards his bedroom. “Lock the door behind you, don’t let it hit you, etc, etc, good night, Diego!”

He closed his bedroom door firmly behind him, purposely ignoring Ben sprawled across his bed, leveling him with an unimpressed look.

Klaus tugged his shirt up and off by the collar, now glancing over to his brother. 

"You might want to clear out, I'm planning on sleeping au naturale."

Ben wrinkled his nose but didn't move. "You've got to stop using your own nudity as a way to get rid of me. It's not like I've not seen every regretful inch of you."

Klaus shrugged, pushing his pants down his legs and kicking his feet out of them. "Suit yourself. Kinda horny, too, though, so I'll probably crank one out. Did you want to watch? Eye contact? Or no?" Klaus made as if to reach into his underwear, eyebrows raised in question. Ben made a loud noise of disgust, disappearing from the room with a string of muttered curses. 

Klaus took in a deep breath, blowing it out through pursed lips before rubbing his hands roughly over his face, stumbling to his bed, and collapsing onto it.

Dave was… God, Dave was really cute. In, like, a totally hot, please let me jump your bones kind of way. Klaus felt dumb. He felt fuzzy and muddled and just really dumb, like a dumb kid with a dumb crush just _smiling_ at a boy. Klaus fell in love at the drop of a hat, he fell in lust with a wink and a smile, but he wanted to know Dave’s favourite _colour_ , and that was something new and weird, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He _did_ know that he didn’t want to think about it, and since heroin wasn’t an option to take himself out of his head, he might as well try and fall asleep. He rolled to his side, trying to settle in while his mind spun around dumb thoughts about cute boys and how their favourite colour happened to be the colour of Klaus’ eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of relapse, drug abuse, and military (regret, negative terms)

**Author's Note:**

> Tagging for infidelity, Dave being deeply closeted, and Dave/Sissy (I'm about to create a new ship tag, my good dudes)


End file.
